The King Of Cowards
by BloodyRose90
Summary: Nearly three years after the War ended, Harry can finally live his life the way he wants to. The question is however: will he ever stop being a coward? A HP/DM slash.
1. The King Of Cowards

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

Rusted From The Rain shall never be mine, and will always be Billy Talent's :)

Summary: Nearly three years after the War ended, Harry can finally live his life the way he wants to. The question is however: will he ever stop being a coward?

Warnings: profanity

* * *

**Harry Potter –**

**The King Of Cowards**

_Go on crush me like a flower, rusted from the rain_

_Come on strip me of my power, beat be with your chains_

_And if I'm the King of Cowards, you're the Queen of Pain_

_I'm rusted from the rain, I'm rusted from the rain._

_Rusted From The Rain – Billy Talent_

* * *

20th April 2001

The brilliant radiance of the dawning sun illuminated the lark-blue sky with all of its might, causing the wispy, white clouds to float nonchalantly overhead; beautiful golden hues, spread across the horizon where the distant, towering, green treetops finally met the sky. Wherein, the leafy crevices hid delighted, male Thrushes and Skylarks crooning their creative tunes to impressed females, perhaps beatifying the morning more than anything else ever could.

The beauty of the morning was perhaps, the contradiction of the morning of one Harry Potter. The 20 year-old male, with his untameable onyx hair, stunning emerald eyes and small stature, was perhaps the unhappiest man to date. His negative state had nothing to do with his poor childhood, unusual teenage years or the terrible trials and tribulations he had faced. No, his foul mood was because of his wife – Ginerva Potter nee Weasley.

To be more exact, his wife Ginerva Potter wrapped in the arms of another man. An Auror, if we were to be pedantic, the man Harry Potter could never be. Most men would of course be angry if they discovered their wife did not abide by the monogamous status of your relationship, for Harry Potter, not so much. Anger was the wrong word to use – unsurprised was a more accurate one.

_'Should've seen it coming,' _the Lord Potter mused; lighting the Muggle cigarette with practised ease, before taking a deep, satisfying drag. The noxious properties of the object, relieving the tension which had wormed its way into his chest. From a young age, Ginerva Weasley had held a crush _'more like an unhealthy obsession' _on the 'boy-who-lived' – Harry Potter.

Her attentions were mostly unwanted by the boy in question, and received with the awkwardness which came to the boy naturally. She wanted a hero, and for the most part, Harry Potter was not it. But on the few occasions which Harry Potter had to play the hero, just attracted the girl even more to the boy. He married her out of obligation for her family, (who had acted as his surrogate family most of his life), and just for the fact that it was easier for him to marry her; it saved him from having to court a lady and 'settle-down' as was expected from their 'Saviour'

So it was mostly all his fault, if he wanted a happy, stable relationship then he should never have married his wife. He knew, _'heck, everyone knew' _she was not a 'one-man' woman, when she was dating Michael Corner she was batting eyes at Blaise Zabini, when she was dating Zacharias Smith she was sleeping with Dean, and when she was dating Seamus she was attempting to get Harry's attention.

For her _'for yourself,'_ he suppressed his own desires, the burning desires which caused his eyes to flit to the male of the species, but even now the fire hadn't truly burned-out. Which was the reason why, when the man saw his male colleagues getting changed into their robes, he could never help but get a little hot under the collar.

For the above reasons, was why Harry Potter has just filed for a divorce, which would be handled swiftly. The oaths which they both took when they exchanged vows had been broken, so the matrimonial paper which contained both their magical signatures was null and void – it only took the solicitor one glance at the paper to believe the Lord Potter. The man could of course, manage some _'a lot of' _grim satisfaction with the fact that Ginerva Weasley would not have any of the Potter fortune. Because (unlike the Muggle World) if one partner violated one of the oaths of the matrimonial contract (fidelity being the first) then the perpetrator receives none of the matrimonial assets, Harry only expressed his relief that no children had been born of their relationship.

After his dealings with the solicitor were finalised, and Ginerva was no longer a member of the Potter household, Harry apparated back to the town-house he owned on Harley Street, London. Which was where he was now, hanging out of the bedroom window, cigarette in one hand, whilst the other braced the side of the ledge, watching the clouds roll by, waiting for the chaos which would inevitably ensue when his wife and her lover woke.

There was one thing Harry Potter could not fault with his wife _'ex-wife'_ – her taste in men, as this one, laying haphazardly on his bed was a looker. Tanned, muscular, with a delectable trailing of mahogany-brown hair, which would undoubtedly lead to an impressive set of – redact. _'Oh, if he wasn't so obviously straight, what I wouldn't give to – redact.'_

Violently crushing the stub of his cigarette, then flicking the abused dog-end to the street below, when the sound of lazy kisses, and mumbled words met his ears. He turned and saw Ginerva busy sucking _'soul-sucking?' _insistently on the other man's tongue, he allowed a mischievous smirk to grace his features at the opportunity which had just practically been presented to him on a silver platter.

"So," he loudly said into the room, victoriously smirking when identical sounds of pain echoed to Harry like music to his ears. "How long has this been going on? From Ginerva I expected no less, but really, Edward, really? I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure having an affair with Harry Potter's wife isn't going to go well with the 'boys' back at the office, considering that I'm mates with both your boss and the Minister," he calmly said, smiling brightly at the sputtering from the couple on the bed.

"Of course, you didn't think of that thought did you? No, all you saw was a moderately pretty lass, who was willing to fuck you any time, any place. But don't worry, she's fair game now, though I would give you a word of advice – don't have too many hopes set out on her, she'll just let you down."

"Listen mate," Edward started, hurriedly _accioing _his Auror robes and dressing himself. "I understand that this isn't the most nicest things to come home to, but please don't tell my superiors, I'll never touch her again if you want. Urquart'll have my hide, and oh Merlin, my parents they practically worship you since you saved Susie from that mauling. I'm begging you, please don't tell them."

"Oh, don't worry Edward _I_ won't tell them anything," Harry assured the Auror, waiting until the other man let out a sigh of relief. "However, I can't speak on behalf of the press, gossip like this is just brilliant for the papers, and I cannot guarantee the solicitor's secrecy if a certain sum of money is offered. But I've heard that the Muggles are trying something out, what's it called now? I _know_, a super-injunction – try one of those out _mate._"

"Listen I am sorry, I really am-"

"Try listening to that when someone fucks _your _wife," Harry dryly returned, which Edward took as a sign to leave. _'Wise man.'_

"I wouldn't have to go looking for another man, if you just fucked me yourself!" the flushed, irate woman declared, jumping from the bed to stand before Harry, uncaring for her lack of dress. "I mean we've been together for nearly two years now, and you haven't even touched me once!"

"Funny I thought it was you who told me that relationships were more than sex, glad to see your true colours Ginerva," Harry coldly stated, dearly wishing he hadn't smoked his last cigarette.

"That was two years ago Harry! What was I supposed to do? I've got needs."

"Yes, I have needs as well Ginerva. However unlike you, I did not feel the need to spread my legs for anything that happened to move in my direction, and despite that, why would I want to subject my poor penis to your unholy, god-forsaken, infection-ridden orifice?" the raven-haired man paused to catch his breath, before ploughing on, regardless to Ginerva's growing embarrassment and anger. "I've talked to solicitor it's over, and you're getting nothing," he told her, whilst summoning all of her possessions into a magically-expanded duffel bag.

"What do you think you're doing!" she screeched, causing Harry to wince from the shrillness of her tone, quite reminiscent of his aunt Petunia's. "What do you mean it's over? Why wasn't I informed? And what do you mean I'm going to get nothing? Half of this stuff is mine, I'm owed this-"

"Why?" Harry roared back, he knew that it was unfair of him to be angry at her because of his feelings towards men, but he had _tried_ to get this relationship to work, and this woman was just grating on his already frazzled nerves. "Why are you owed half of my stuff? Tell me! Does sleeping around with other men give you some sort of status that I was unaware of? As soon as you give me a good reason why you deserve half of the Potter fortune for being a selfish little whore, then you can have it!" he bellowed at her, throwing the duffel of her stuff out of the window, much to her displeasure if the scream of rage was to go by.

"I hate you Harry Potter!"

"And I hate you Ginerva Weasley! You're a disgrace of a wife, and a honour of a slag, now stop tainting myself with your presence!"

"You're a coward, Harry Potter!" she declared, "You went and killed the most feared wizard of all time, yet didn't become an Auror, what were you? Too scared? Scared that the evil bastards out there would hurt poor 'ickle Harry!"

"Don't take that tone with me!" he demanded, as Ginerva's taunting was disgustingly parallel to Bellatrix Lestrange's. "I may be a so-called 'coward' Ginerva Weasley, but at least I didn't sell myself for fame. Is that why you married me? So you could be the wife of the 'Saviour'? Or was it for my money, why? Was it for the power you felt, as you went behind by back and betrayed not only me, but yourself and our vows? Did you get a kick out of knowing that I put my all into making this farce of a marriage work?"

The ex-Potter had now gone as red as her atrociously short hair, and was glaring daggers at the man who used to be her husband. "Have you got nothing to say now? No? I'm tired of this Ginny," he murmured wearily, "Now do me a favour and leave."

"No."

"Why are you so obstinate? Get out of my life!"

"I've got no clothes on!" she replied hotly, waving a skinny arm down her naked-form.

"Well I would say 'why don't you slip into something more comfortable' but I would ruin it by fervently wishing you into a coma."

"Why you-" she attempted to protest, but was caught by the firm on her wrist as Harry apparated her to the front door. "Goodbye Ginerva." he told her before pushing her onto the street. "I really need a fag," he muttered, dragging a hand through his bedraggled hair.

It was difficult to keep his eyes open, he had been working around the clock for the past 27 hours with only short naps and energy drinks to keep him going. He was in dire need of a good rest but he knew he had to get to Molly before Ginerva did. So with that thought in mind, he apparated away.

* * *

Molly Weasley was used to early risings, after having seven children and a busy husband, she had learnt to wake early to meet the needs of her family. Many a woman would have considered this demeaning work, especially if she was proficient with her wand and skilled with her mind, but to Molly Weasely it was the best job around. She could constantly be in contact with her family, keep the house in some sort of chaotic 'order', and ensure that everyone was well fed.

So as she was used to the early mornings, she was busily frying bacon, knitting a summer cardigan, and cleaning the surfaces when her son-in-law Harry Potter entered the kitchen. Visits weren't unheard of in the Burrow, but it was still unexpected to find the man she had called a son for the past ten years standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Harry!" she greeted happily, bustling over to the boy and embracing him tightly in a hug, which he quickly returned with vigour. She heard him murmur something akin to 'Hi Molly' into her shoulder, and she could tell that something was bothering her 'son'. So it stood without reason that she asked him about it, once he was settled at the table with a decent-size mug of tea.

"It's about Ginerva," he finally admitted, after fiddling with the edges of a crumbling custard-cream biscuit, and Molly felt something drop in her chest. _'Oh Merlin, what has she done now?' _she moaned, settling a comforting hand on Harry's and soft enquiring eyes on his own saddened yet determined ones.

"What happened dear?"

"Well I had just come back from a late-shift at Mungos," Harry said, easily talking about his career as it was one he genuinely did enjoy. "And I walked into our flat, and went straight to the bedroom because I hadn't any sleep for a day and was really, really exhausted. So I walked in, and I could tell something wasn't right. Y'know you can get those feeling sometimes, that something is wrong but you don't know what it is?" he rambled out, and the mother nodded along sadly, she had felt the feeling he was describing when Bill was mauled, and Fred had died.

"But it was so dark so I didn't know what it was, so I cast a _lumos_ and Ginny's lying their entwined within another man's arms. And it wasn't just any man, no it was Edward Somerville, you know the one whose sister was attacked by a rogue Werewolf and had all that spell damage and was really thankful that the team and I managed to remove the virus from her system? It was him. And he's an Auror, and we all know how much Ginny wanted me to be an Auror, she wanted the fame and glory and I don't know... I'm sorry for having to tell you this Molly," he mumbled out, taking a bite from the biscuit just so he didn't say anything else.

"Nonsense Harry, I would have heard of it either way. I'm just so disappointed in Ginerva. To cheat on you so shamelessly," Molly tittered, glaring at the wall wishing it was her daughter.

"But what you don't understand is that most of its my fault Molly. I didn't marry Ginny because I loved her, I thought I loved her and I tried to love her, but it just wouldn't work. We never you know..." he trailed off, a bright blush staining his cheeks, snatching another custard cream off the plate and angrily biting into it.

"What do you mean you 'tried' to love her?" Molly questioned, sensing deja vu, from the conversation she had with Charlie many years ago.

"Molly, I think I'm – no I know I'm gay. But I cared for Ginny, and at the time everyone wanted us to get married, to them it seemed so natural, so I forced my... uh, 'urges' away, and focused on our marriage. I can see now that my feelings for Ginny were completely platonic, but in the midst of all the post-war chaos, and Ginny's insistence I just lost myself," Harry blurted out, hanging his rosy-red face in shame, not wanting to see the disappointed and angry look upon Molly's face.

"Idiotic boy," she murmured affectionately, gently squeezing his trembling hand. "You shouldn't have had to hide your true self Harry, I would have accepted you the way you are. And you shouldn't have paid any attention to whatever all the Tom, Dick or Harry's out there expected you to do, I am only angry that you caused yourself misery the past three years by pretending to be something that you're not. Ginerva shouldn't have been so obsessed with you anyway, and I regret now that I hadn't nipped that infatuation in the bud when I first saw it, but it seemed so harmless at the time. The Twins told me about her multiple love-lives at Hogwarts, and I admit that I should have had words with her then as well. It is not your fault Harry, you tried to keep everyone happy at your own expense, and it didn't work out. Sometimes your foolhardiness is just plain stupid."

"Sorry," he mumbled out, "but I just wanted to be part of your family ever since I was a child, and I just thought that marrying Ginerva would help me firmly become a fixture here."

"Fiddlesticks, Harry," Molly admonished sternly; wrapping the small man in another rough embrace. "You've been my son for years, and I'm sorry that you felt the need to marry Ginerva to know that yourself."

"Sorry," he repeated, clinging onto her tightly. He really loved the Weasleys, and had thought of Molly as his surrogate mother for years, but sometimes the affection she showed him just reminded him of the mother he never had. So with a light sniff, he untangled himself from her arms and offered a watery grin. "I think the bacon's burning," he laughed out, smiling softly as Molly quickly raced to the smoking pan.

"It's just slightly...crispy," she eventually said, after assessing the damage. "And if we scrape off the slightly darker bits then no-one will be able to tell the difference. Are you staying for breakfast?" she asked, casting a disapproving glance at his thin frame.

"I would love to." he answered, rubbing his face with his palms. "But I really should tell Ron and Hermione the news, before the papers get wind of it. Merlin, that would go down _so _well."

"Well then it's a good thing that they're both coming round for breakfast then isn't it? They should be here in a couple of minutes, so could you set the table dear?" she asked, posing an intimidating figure with skillet in one hand and wand in the other.

"Y-Yes Molly," he easily agreed, hurrying to the cutlery draw to lay the table.

"And you're coming for dinner tonight," she stated more than questioned, causing the man to grimace, subsequently making her narrow her eyes.

"I-uh, I'm working another late shift," he stuttered out, wanting to please the woman yet knowing he was failing.

"Harry James Potter I will tell you now, that you will _not _work another late-shift. You are tired off your feet, and will be no use to St. Mungo's like that. Floo them now and tell them that you won't be able to make it, say you're ill or having family problems."

"Molly, I can't do that, they need me there-"

"I'm sure that they've got more Healers that can do your job-" she interrupted with a dismissive voice.

"Molly!" Harry shouted loudly, making the mother stare at the man with a raised eyebrow which caused the man to flush brightly. "Molly," he repeated much quieter this time. "I love you dearly, but you're just slightly overbearing sometimes. The fact is there aren't that many specialised in the area of spell-damage – not after the war, so I am extremely lucky to have such a brilliant Mediwitch to train under. And as I was going to say, this is my last shift of the week; Healer Zabini has given me the next couple of days off."

"Oh fine." the bustling witch acquiesced, and if Harry didn't know better he would say she was pouting. "But you better come here everyday for your meals after tonight."

"Yeah ok Molly, sorry for snapping at you," he said with a relieved sigh.

"No no, it was partly my fault, I just can't help but mother you, you're so adorable." the ginger-haired witch admitted. "I don't know how I didn't see you were gay before, it's so obvious."

"Molly!" Harry gasped out, scandalous at the woman who he considered his mother's tone. Luckily her attention was soon focused upon salvaging the smoking breakfast, with a smile resting upon her face as she heard the creak of stairs which could only be her husband

"Harry m'boy, I didn't know you were coming today!" Arthur jovially greeted, moving to kiss his wife on the cheek. "I just passed Ron and Hermione in the hallway, they seem really happy about something, do you know what it is?" he directed at the other two, who shook their heads in return. "Oh well, we'll find out in soon." He quickly settled himself at the table, beaming at Harry before opening the Quibbler which was resting upon the table.

"Mate!" Ron exclaimed, walking into the kitchen whilst fixing the shoulders of his Auror uniform. "How are you?" "Ok, I guess, you?" "Brilliant mate!"

"Harry!" the bushy-haired woman squealed when she saw her other best-friend sitting at the table, and wasted no time in crushing him into a hug. "I didn't know you were coming around, where's Ginny?" she asked with a grin, which faltered when she saw the grim expressions on both Harry and Molly's faces. "What happened?"

"You might want to sit down." he told them seriously, glad that they complied with little protestation. "I have divorced Ginerva," he said, watching Arthur's smile slip off his face, Hermione's face to blank, and Ron to grow red.

"Why'd you do that to her!" the youngest male Weasley demanded furiously, "How's she gonna live? She hasn't got a job, and I'm guessing hasn't got a house any more. How could you!" he shouted, roughly kicking his chair aside, shouting obscenities into Harry's face.

"That is enough!" Molly intervened, "As much as it pains me to admit it, Ginny's situation is her entire fault."

"Molly-wobbles!" "Mum!"

"I said that is enough." she repeated in clipped tones, casting a frosty glare at her husband and son. "It is her fault that she never got a job and has no income, not Harry's."

"But still-" Ron weakly said, picking his chair up from the floor, and sinking heavily into it.

"Why did you split with Ginny?" Hermione questioned softly, grasping Harry's hand in her own, much like how Molly did earlier.

"She was cheating on me," the raven-haired man murmured, twirling the fork next to him. "I found her in bed with another man, then watched them kiss and giggle like it was some big joke before they realised I was there."

"I'm sorry mate," Ron apologised, "I didn't know."

"It's all right Ron, I'm not blaming you."

"But what else is there?" Hermione asked, squeezing his hand gently as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Damn you for being so perceptive 'Mione," he muttered softly, chuckling weakly at his own words. "I'm gay," he admitted for the second time that day, fear growing inside his stomach as Hermione remained silent, and Ron's sad face morphed into one of horror.

"Y-You don't fancy me do you mate?" he asked in genuine fear, causing his friend to let out a loud bout of laughter.

"Only you Ron," he managed to say between his fading laughter. "Oh, promise to never change. No, I don't fancy you Ron."

"Good, because that would have been awkward," the red-haired youth mumbled, before glaring at his wife. "How long have you known?" he demanded of her.

"I guessed when we repeated 5th year, when all he would do was stare at Seamus' lips, and Draco Malfoy's arse," she said wryly, laughing delightedly at Harry's blush and Ron's strangled 'Malfoy'

"Seamus has such a nice accent," he mumbled out, burying his face in his hands.

"And Draco?" Hermione pressed, smiling at the raven-haired man's moan of terror. "Well I must admit Draco has got quite a nice-"

"'Mione!" was Ron's outraged reply, "How could you even say that, it's Malfoy!"

"Hush Ron. Draco has been nothing but a gentleman since the end of the War, hasn't said one bad word about anyone and is a very diligent worker."

"You're gonna leave me for Malfoy?" Ron asked; his ire reawakening at the thought, which made his wife glare half-heartedly at him, although everyone there could see the amusement in her eyes.

"You're such an idiot Ronald Weasley," she laughed out, pecking him affectionately on the cheek.

"So is that a no?" the youngest Weasley asked uncertainly.

"Of course it is dimwit."

"Sorry."

"You better be," she said affectionately. "Anyway why would I leave you for another man, I think that our news would be roof of the opposite."

"Oh yeah." he choked out, flushing red at his wife's words. "This looks amazing mum!" he declared at the hearty full-English breakfast which Molly had just placed in front of him, and immediately dug into it with vigour. Harry met Hermione's amused eyes from above the red-head, and simultaneously rolled them with matching grins.

"Arthur mentioned that you two seemed happy earlier, and you just talked about your news," Molly nonchantly said, shrewdly looking at the pair before her. "Should I start knitting baby booties now or later?" she asked, clapping her son on the back when he started choking on his toast, and smiling benignly at the shocked looks on Harry and Arthur's faces.

"W-why would you think that 'Mione's pregnant?" he stuttered out, with the woman in question nodding along slowly.

"Because Ronald, I am a mother, and I notice these things. So I take that as a yes?"

"Yes, I'm 4 weeks gone now, we just got it confirmed last night." Hermione answered, seemingly recovered from her gaping stage only seconds prior.

"So you'll be having a winter baby?" Harry enquired, after pulling her into a tight hug. "Because that is really cute, y'know. What?" he demanded when both Molly and Hermione laughed at him. "Oh don't you say how obvious it was that I'm gay." he whined good-naturedly "I'm just excited about my best-friend having a sprog, okay? Totally natural," he declared, smiling at Hermione who was clasping her husband's hand even though he was shovelling food into his mouth with the other.

"'ust, 'eep, 'chelling, 'self, 'at." was what Harry deciphered from Ron's mouth.

"Oh, hush you. 'Mione's the one who guessed I was gay not you."

"Yeah but it's 'Mione," Ron said, after swallowing his previous mouthful; and Harry could swear that Hermione was muttering about the emotional ranges of teaspoons, and idiotic husbands.

* * *

It was a short while later, that the two Weasley men left the house together to go to the Ministry; Molly was cleaning the kitchen after adamantly refusing the offered help from both Harry and Hermione, and that the two aforementioned youths were throwing grain at the chickens bobbing about outside the Burrow. The silence was comfortable, (and much welcomed in Harry's opinion), however if he knew his friend as well as he knew he did, then she would inevitably break it for some answers.

"I couldn't really ask you anything else once Ronald got it into his head that I was leaving him," the witch spoke, amusement evident in her tone as she threw an extra handful of corn at an especially persistent chicken which Harry knew Ron called 'Tika' when Molly and Hermione weren't around. "However, how long have you known you were that way inclined?"

The raven-haired wizard tensed at her words, and instead became interested in seeing how much corn Tika was willing to digest (quite a lot actually Harry absently noted). He knew he was being a coward, but honestly? He didn't care too much. He had to spend his entire youth defending the world against a maniacal wizard – that was enough bravery for a lifetime in Harry's opinion.

"Harry?" she enquired, her gentle tone becoming more hardened the longer he spent ignoring her. "I began thinking about it since fifth year," she declared, hazel eyes smug in satisfaction at the choking noises Harry created. "I mean even if you did have that supposed 'crush' on Cho Chang it seemed quite forced, as if it was expected of you. Added onto the fact that you described your kiss with her as 'wet', I mean sure if she was crying then it would indeed be wet but for you to describe the entire thing as-"

"Shouldn't you be at work today Hermione?" Harry interrupted quickly, grimacing at the frown and glare levelled upon him from the pregnant witch.

"Nice try Harry, but Draco is covering my shift for a couple of hours, and I'll cover his tomorrow. Are you going to answer me now Harry?"

"No wonder Ron thought you might be cheating on him with Draco if you've mentioned him to Ron a much as you have me," the wizard idly added, smirking slightly at the stunned expression on his best-friend's face, before growing worried at the gleam growing in her eyes.

"Oh Ron has always been oblivious to most things, but you too Harry?" she questioned softly _'patronisingly'_ "Draco would never date me-"

"Because you're Muggleborn," he supplied knowingly, an annoyed frown marring his face whilst he did so.

"You're wrong actually," Hermione informed him, eyes sparkling so reminiscent to the late Albus Dumbledore's that Harry actually had to blink a couple of times in shock. "Draco isn't blinded by his childhood prejudices any longer, he treats everyone equally regardless of their status and magical ability."

"I find that difficult to believe," Harry scoffed, but even to him it sounded forced. He focused his emerald orbs upon Tika, as she tottered across the hay-strewn ground intently searching for more corn.

"It's true. I know you haven't really paid much attention to The Quibbler, but Draco has been doing a lot of great work for charities – most notably the O.M.C." Hermione stared incredulously at Harry when he remained impassive. "The Orphaned Muggle Charity, Harry! Honestly, I knew you threw yourself into your Healing career but this is ridiculous! Also, the modified S.P.E.W where Elves are freed from abusive ownerships."

"So he's tamed you on that front then?" Harry smirked teasingly, rubbing his arm when it was hit violently.

"I'm being serious Harry!" Hermione grouched.

"Fine, Draco has done a lot of great work recently and I'm a hermit. I've understood, can we move on now? You mentioned that Draco isn't interested in you, but it's not because he dislikes Muggleborns."

"I said anyone of blood status actually," she corrected, ignoring how Harry rolled his eyes at her. "But essentially yes. Draco isn't interested in me because he's gay. It's quite simple, I can't see why no-one else saw it actually."

_'Gay! He's gay, I can't believe it – well actually I can. He's gay though, he likes men, he could like me – redact! That body though, the beautiful blonde hair that can shines almost silver in the light, and those ass-cheeks just – redact! Don't think things like that, he can never be yours! He sounds like a great person though. No! If I just talked to him – NO! He probably hates me still, if only-'_

"Harry?" Hermione's voice roused said wizard from his thoughts, and he locked his eyes questioningly onto hers. "You can live your life now."

"I – I don't understand what you are talking about 'Mione." the wizard attempted to say but was cut off by his friend.

"You can go after Draco now-"

"I'm not interested in Draco!" he vehemently denied, though his mind was in much disagreement with his mouth.

"Don't insult my intelligence," Hermione immediately replied, glaring full-force at him now. "Ever since we began this conversation you have only referred to him as 'Draco' not 'Malfoy' like you previously did at school. Regardless of that, I think my biggest indicator was you practically stalking him in sixth year."

"I was following him because I thought he was a Death Eater – which he was if you don't remember!" Harry justified, attempting to force down the blush which was threatening to flame up his face. His brown-haired friend increased the intensity of her glare. _'Oh Merlin, I haven't seen __that_ _glare since Ron told her that food was the most important thing in his entire life. It was amusing back then, now – not so much.'_

"He was pardoned of his crimes," she frigidly told the wizard, "Which you should know about since _you _were the one who fought tooth and nail to set him free, and do I even need to remind you what a mess you were during that time?" _'Oh Jesus, don't remind me,'_ he internally groaned, and strangely Hermione understood the impact that comment affected him, so instead dryly added. "Trailing after a suspected Death Eater does not entail glueing ones eyes to said suspect's arse anyway."

Harry couldn't help the blush which did in fact turn his face red this time. "I – Her – Hermione, that doesn't mean anything, I've grown up since then. I've moved on."

"I don't seem to believe that Harry," she murmured, warm brown eyes settling on her friend. "Whenever you mentioned his name you smiled to yourself. I haven't seen that smile since we were in first-year, it was so carefree." _'What? I smile at his name? I shouldn't though, I mean he's an ex-Death Eater and I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, I can't do it...But I so want to.'_"You can live your life now." she repeated softly, effectively breaking his reverie.

"What of society Hermione?" he asked her bitterly, sighing in defeat. "They all have expectations of me, they expected me to marry Ginny so I did. They wanted me to become an Auror and when I didn't they blew up in my face! Why can't they leave me alone! They would never allow me to even think of enter a relationship with Draco!"

"You married Ginny out of your own free will, Harry." _'No they __wanted_ _me to...'_ "Sure, they _wanted _you to marry her but they didn't force you to did they? They may have disliked you for becoming a Healer, but the wards you had stopped you from receiving the Howlers and your deal with Luna and other Editors prevented them from printing anything too heinous. Heck, if you give them one interview a year then they promised not to print anything bad about you!"

"That's beside the point Hermione, being a Healer and dating Draco are completely different things. If I date him then they'll attack him too, they'll say that I've been cursed they won't let him live peacefully no matter how much he has done for the world. The fact is they'll never let their precious _Saviour _date Draco Malfoy." He passionately cried, hands searching through his raven locks.

"You can live your life the way _you _want to Harry! Ignore the papers, ignore your fans, ignore everyone else. _You _are the one who are preventing yourself form your happiness, not _society_. So stop blaming everyone else, and get your head out of your butt!"

"They'll accuse him despite that though, and he shouldn't have to go through anything terrible ever again, not after Lucius." _'Oh Circe, his eyes when the news reached him, and what the moronic prophet were spewing. I can't let him face that again.'_

His eyes must have portrayed his pain, for Hermione merely smiled at the wizard, which offered little comfort for the man. "But you admit that you do have feelings for him?" she asked, and Harry inwardly groaned. "Of course you do, my instincts on these things are rarely wrong. You can be happy Harry, just stop being a coward," she told him, dusting some cat-fur from her beige-robes whilst she did so, and Harry was quite sure that he heard her quietly say "Now if only I can convince a blonde of the same thing."

_'He'll never feel the same,' _his inner voice reasoned, even though it caused the pain which he had grown familiar with over the years, to flare into being once more. _'What if he did feel the same though? What if I had a chance with him? From what Hermione said it could be possible – redact! You can't __know__ that! What's the point with getting excited over it? It will only disappoint me in the end, I can never be with him. 'Que sera sera' equates to I'm a coward.'_

Harry turned to ask Hermione what exactly she meant with her last comment, but she wasn't there any longer; unfortunately for Harry though, his hopes for a Draco-filled life seemed adamant to stay.

* * *

**A/N: **Hey, this is a light-hearted Drarry fic. It will be taking a back seat from my much longer and darker fic 'When Daylight Dies' but this has been in my head for the past couple of months, so I just thought I'd just get it down.


	2. The Great Pretender

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

'The Great Pretender' shall never be mind, and will always be The Platters'

Warnings: profanity.

**Draco Malfoy - **

**The Great Pretender**

_Oh yes, I'm the great pretender_

_Pretending that I'm doing well_

_My need is such, I pretend too much_

_I'm lonely, but no-one can tell_

_The Great Pretender – The Platters_

* * *

The blonde smiled at the scene before him; a beautiful tiled floor, in various hues of brown shone warmly from the rays of the rising sun flittering through the windows overhead. Fingers idly traced the intricacies of the wooden panelling aside the door, and the smile stretched his face further, the sheer joyous appearance of this place always seem to brighten his mood for a while, _'Perhaps,'_ the man thought, strolling the familiar route towards the sitting room, _'It is because my father never stepped foot into this place, this was (for all intents and purposes)_ _the Country Manor for the Blacks, and only those of the most ancient and noble blood could enter it,'_

A small frown marred the blonde's face at that thought, he had to admit that the wards were slightly draconian, _'But then again, the family motto for the blacks has always been 'always pure', so it is quite understandable_.' However he had to be slightly annoyed at the fact that Hermione would never see this place, which would most probably not bother her too much, if it was not for that fact that the manor garden was the only place in Britain where the English Long-haired Pegasi bred. _'It may be best if she never discovers that little fact, but if she found out and I never told her then she would hate me, and if I told her she might think I'm taunting her due to her blood status.'_ the blonde shook those thoughts away, he shouldn't bother worrying about these things whilst visiting his mother.

_'The Elves have changed the flowers...again,'_ the blonde thought with amusement, as he eyed the vivid magenta blossoms, which he thought came form Brazil, however as he wasn't an expert botanist he couldn't be too sure. _'First it was Narcissus, then Baby Romantica, then Asiatic Lilies, then Moth Orchids, and now Bougen, no, Bougainvillea. Honestly, the Elves are obsessed.' _as he recalled some of the other plants which had previously decorated the Manor, he finally entered the small, comfortable sitting-room.

"Draco," a soft voice said, and the man in question smiled widely at the owner of the voice. "It is such a delight to see you again," she continued, and the man shook his head at the woman's words. _'I see her every week,'_ he thought, whilst moving swiftly toward the ageing (yet still beautiful) woman.

"Mother," the Malfoy greeted happily; crouching beside the chair the woman was sitting in, whilst pressing a loving kiss to her cheek. "It is lovely to see you also, I trust that you have been well? Your cough has not returned?" Draco asked her, hoping desperately that the most cherished woman in his life was not ill once more.

With a smile, she informed her son that she was in good health once again, and the blonde man released a relieved breath he didn't even know he was holding. "That's brilliant to hear, brilliant," he breathed, whilst seating himself in an elegantly-detailed French salon chair. "Have you been out recently? You seem to be happier than usual," he commented, after taking in her rosy complexion, and contented demeanour.

"Can a mother not be happy to see her only son?" she questioned, before a delighted laugh escaped her throat. "No, but you are correct; I went to Diagon last morning and came across the most delightful news," she exclaimed, and her child could not help to be intrigued, little to nothing could excite his mother so. "Tell me, have you seen Mrs. Weasley nee Granger recently?" she asked, her blue eyes dancing merrily.

"I saw her only yesterday morning," he replied with a small frown. "She asked me to cover her morning-shift at the department, in return for her relieving mine today. Why has something happened to her?" he asked, worry evident in his tone, _'Hermione has grown to become – dare I say it? A dear friend to me._ _We're not bosom-buddies, no, but our relationship is more than mere acquaintances, and dammit to Azkaban! I will not let her be harmed in anyway shape or form!'_

"Oh Draco, do not fret so," Narcissa chuckled out, "There is nothing wrong with her, in fact, she is positively radiant." the blonde woman's smile widened; Draco focused on her twitching hands, unsurprised that she was performing her favourite past-time – needle-work, but the man actually saw what she was making and, his eyes widened. "Yes, she's pregnant, it's such brilliant news isn't it?" the woman murmured upon seeing the look of understanding upon her son's face.

"Merlin, she must think me the biggest prat in the world!" Draco moaned, burying his ashamed face into his hands. "I saw her at lunch yesterday to switch shifts, and I didn't say anything! She must think me the most insensitive bastard ever, how can I make it up to her, Mother?"

"Draco, you are being an idiot; you're just like Severus, do you know that? Worrying over the most trivial of things," the woman chided, and despite the wonderful feeling in his chest that bloomed with being compared to his pseudo-father, the blonde couldn't help but grow agitated at his mother's blasé tone; however before he could voice his anger, his mother spoke once more.

"Mrs Weasley knows that you wouldn't have known about her news, so I do not know why you are worrying so. I expect she was in quite a rush to switch shifts, as she herself told me that she was running late, so she most likely never had the time to tell you; however this does not mean you are to do nothing," the blonde woman instructed; her eyes never leaving her son's, despite the task she had at hand. "As the Lord to the Malfoy name, no, as her _friend_, the next time you see her, you shall have a bouquet of the finest flowers, your best regards, and this present from myself," Narcissa told her son, indicating towards the blanket (adorned with 2 ½ small stitched rabbits), she had in her hand.

"Of course, Mother, that makes a lot of sense," the blonde absently murmured, "Longbottom produces the best flowers, I do not know how he'll feel giving them to me, but only the best can do for Hermione,"

"Draco," the witch warningly stated; casting stern eyes upon her only son. "You are worrying for nought – again; Mr. Longbottom is sure to sell to you because you have Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Potter's respect." _'Harry Potter...respecting me? Where does Mother get these insane ideas from,'_ the wizard thought sadly to himself, nearly missing his Mother's next comments. "Speaking of Mr. Potter, have you read the Quibbler recently dear?"

The wizard stated the negative; with growing worry, Draco noted that his Mother's eyes were shining with mirth, as she handed him a crisply-folded copy of the newspaper; silver eyes flicked to the top of the page and saw that it was yesterday's edition. "Read the gossip section, Draco dear, it is positively delightful!"

Warily complying to his Mother's wishes, the man had to consciously restrain himself from gaping at the paper before him. _'This can't be true...there's no way that he would ever leave her; they were the 'Golden Couple' the fantasy of many little witches' dreams, there's no way,'_ he thought, whilst desperately attempting to quell the growing source of soaring satisfaction in his being, and the small amounts of _hope _niggling away at his heart.

"It is such good news, is it not Draco?" the witch declared; and her son attempted to level an admonishing glare at her, but couldn't summon enough genuine feeling to do so. "I so love the quotes in there, Brown says that a passing wizard heard the shouting through the open window. And you know as well as I do Draco, that the Quibbler only publishes the truth, so don't even attempt to lie to yourself," she added, when she saw his mutinous look. _'She has a point there, Lovegood and Longbottom somehow managed to produce ink similar to veritaserum.'_

"Fine, fine Mother; you win," he wearily replied.

"Just listen Draco, Potter and the girl have apparently never been intimate together, and _he_ hasn't been intimate in his life; why do you think that is? She isn't exactly hard on the eyes, so I can only presume that it was something he did not want." _'She cannot honestly be implying that Harry Potter, Saviour of the world, is gay?' _the man thought incredulously, yet his Mother continued to plough on. "And my favourite quote has to be, Harry Potter shouting 'why would I subject my poor pen-"

Blushing furiously, Draco manage a scandalised 'Mother!' to burst from his lips, yet still his eyes sought the said quote whilst his mind_ imagined. _Imagined how exactly Harry Potter's second wand looked, how it would feel in his hand - "I am not even going to entertain that idea Mother," he stated coldly, before standing to his feet. "It's been lovely to see you again, but I really must go, Hermione has given me a task to do – Merlin knows why." the blonde pressed a kiss to his Mother's smiling face, frowning as he heard her murmur something strange about 'the plan'.

* * *

Another blow to his ego was presented with each word uttered by Mr. McAvoy, the most prestigious prosecution wizard the Ministry had under their employ. The blonde's wrists were bound (by ridiculously maniacal chains), to the armrests of the most mould-infested chair he had ever come across. His breeding was practically shuddering at the thought of _who_ exactly had sat on this chair previously, and how the actual piece of rigid furniture had attained some of its stains.

Draco Malfoy was watching his previous self forlornly as each word the prosecution said, practically nailed his coffin air-tight. He looked a mess, his hair _'pride and joy'_ which had once been meticulously cleaned every day was now being subjected to despicable treatment as it lay limp and lifeless around his head. _'Perhaps embodying my spirit more than anything else could. I honestly do not know why she wanted me to watch this again, I have already had to live through it once; there was no need to repeat the performance,'_

A pitiful whine escaping his past self's throat, brought him back to the memory, and he smiled unwittingly at the cause – Harry Potter taking the stand. _'I suppose back then I really was terrified of what he would say, but to be fair I still hardly believe what he did,' _the older Malfoy thought, watching as the _'sinfully beautiful'_ man cast his _' brilliant' _emerald eyes across the assembled wizards.

"I would just like to say that I am ashamed to be a part of the Wizarding World, a thought I've been harbouring ever since I was eleven, when I had just been introduced to it." Draco heard the Saviour speak, and watched as his past self's eyelids closed slowly in defeat. "I'm sure many of you are wondering why, and the answer is right before you. You expected a child, who had only known of his heritage and magic for four years to save you all from Voldemort, the darkest wizard to ever live. Added on to that, you decided to punish the children who fought on his side, children barely above the age of 18 – some younger still." His eyes flashed quickly to Draco, and now that his head wasn't clouded with resignation, he thought he saw _concern _bubbling in those emerald depths.

"Children who had _no_ choice but to fight for Voldemort, children who were forced by their parents, by their expectations to become cold-blooded killers. And that is what _I _am ashamed of, ashamed that children had to fight _your _war," The Potter concluded, frigid emerald eyes sweeping across the courtroom before softening slightly upon the sight of Draco.

"Mr Potter if we could perhaps start the questioning," the nasal tones of McAvoy caused both the past and future Draco's to grit their teeth, and upon closer inspection it seemed as if Harry did also. _'He can't be that annoyed surely?'_

"By all means," the 18 year-old charmingly agreed, as he placed his hands upon the desk in front of him, and smiled at those assembled in the court. However now that the blonde had a clear head, he could see (from experience of hiding his emotions behind a mask for the majority of his life) that the smile was faked. McAvoy beamed back, and Draco thought he resembled a slimy, little toad.

"Where were you on the 20th June 1997?" the prosecution questioned, and Draco could see his memory-self cringe behind the mask.

"I was atop the Astronomy Tower, stupefied under my Invisibility Cloak," was the strained reply, and Draco could see the Potter forcibly swallow.

"What happened whilst you were there? Who stupefied you? What did you see?"

"Which question would you like answered first Mr. McAvoy?" Potter smirked, as McAvoy stuttered out 'the second one' with obvious embarrassment. "Professor Dumbledore stupefied me."

"And why did he do that?" McAvoy asked, as he began pacing in front of Harry whilst sneering at the chained form of Draco.

"I couldn't really say Mr McAvoy, I mean who can profess the knowledge of being able to understand the actions of Albus Dumbledore," Harry answered charmingly, chuckling at the weak smiles sent his way. "But I can hazard a guess to why. He didn't want me to stop what was going to happen."

"And what was that?"

"He didn't want me to stop Severus Snape killing him," came the simple reply, and Draco could clearly see the worried frown sent to his memory-self as he said it. Draco watched fascinated as Harry Potter's frown only deepened further, with every comment about the integrity of one Severs Snape. "Ladies, Gentlemen, Minister," Harry greeted with barely concealed hatred, causing memory-Draco's eyes to widen in confusion.

"We have already established, merely five hours ago that Severus Snape was exonerated of all crimes. I mean I will happily present all of the evidence once more if it will satisfy you, but in case you need reminding – any and I mean _any _malicious comment against Severus Snape is an insult against myself. That applies to the papers as well Rita darling, because that my dear is called slander which I'm sure you are already well acquainted with," the man's voice saccharine sweet.

Draco smiled softly as he saw a tear roll down his memory's cheek; he remembered how it felt knowing that his Godfather and pseudo-father would be recognised after death, not as a Death Eater but as a hero. Relief, happiness, sadness. _'Why did she want me to see this again? I can only __wonder, maybe she wanted to show me how much I've changed, how far I've grown.'_

The sound of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic snorting in amusement roused Draco from his thoughts, and with more perception he saw the wink the man sent the teenager. "Please get back onto topic Mr. Potter otherwise you will be found to be in contempt of the court." Harry waved his hand at McAvoy in a gesture to continue, barely hiding the smirk which flitted across his face.

"Who else was there?" the prosecution asked, causing Harry to rub his eyes in concentration.

"Many people Mr McAvoy. There was Fenrir Greyback, Bellatrix Lestrange and various other Death Eaters," Harry began to list, but was cut off by McAvoy.

"Was the accused there?" he asked, and Harry's emerald eyes locked onto the memory's silver ones, hiding multitudes of emotions Draco could not even begin to name. He nodded almost imperceptibly, before voicing his affirmative.

"And what was the accused doing there?"

"What is with your questions Mr. McAvoy, they are hardly specific are they? How am I supposed to know what is going on in another person's head, short of Legllimency ? Which I did _not_ perform. However, Draco's task was to kill Albus Dumbledore-"

Once again, Harry's voice was cut off by McAvoy's triumphant exclamation and the whisperings of the entire court. Frustrated _'Do they look panicked? No they couldn't, why would he-?' _eyes swept throughout the room, and Harry's brow furrowed in concentration. "As I was saying Mr. McAvoy – no, you do _not_ interrupt me," he added when the prosecution made to do just that. "Draco Malfoy's task was to kill Albus Dumbledore, a task which he did not fulfil because among many things he is not, is a murderer. Draco Malfoy did not kill Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape did on _Albus Dumbledore's orders_. Albus Dumbledore offered Draco and his mother refuge from Voldemort, which was cruel of him to do so because he knew he could not fulfil those promises."

"Nevertheless Mr. Potter you cannot deny the evidence that Draco Malfoy willingly joined the Death Eaters-" he attempted to say, and Draco could feel his pulse quicken with tension, even though he _knew_ how this would end.

"And that is where you are wrong Mr. McAoy. Draco Malfoy did _not _join the Death Eaters willingly, he joined so he could save his mother's life. His father held Narcissa Malfoy's life over Draco Malfoy's head as a way to get his son on Voldemort's side. Everything he performed was to save his mother," Harry announced to the court, his position determined as he stared McAvoy down. "Can you imagine it?" he continued in a quieter tone,

"Knowing that if you did not join a mad-man then you would be the reason your mother died? Or if you refused then your mother would be cursed, raped, murdered? Can you? Would you be able to live with yourself afterwards if something happened to the person who birthed you because of you? If I was in the same position as Draco Malfoy, I would not hesitate to do the same." At this, the silence was deafening, and the tension almost palpable as they all stared at their saviour in shock and confusion.

"How many of you can say that? How many of you can say that you would sacrifice your life, your happiness so that another could live? Because Draco Malfoy effectively did what my mother, Lily Potter did. Draco sacrificed his chance of living to save his mother, my mother ensured I would live at the price of her own life. My mother died at the hands of Voldemort, and I am sure many of yours did too. So let me ask you, if you had the chance to stop that happening would you take it?" No-one dared to meet the teenager's gaze, and Draco thought he saw the hints of relief flooding those mesmerising emerald orbs.

"I did not think you could answer that. I do not blame Draco Malfoy, and like I said earlier I am ashamed of the Wizarding World; ashamed that you are all willing to let this teenager's life be wasted away for something he could not do."

"That sounds nice and pretty all dressed up like that, Mr. Potter, but-"

"But nothing!" Harry all but hissed at the man, and Draco could feel goosebumps rise on his skin at the two words. "You are acting just like Voldemort's Ministry workers Mr. McAvoy, don't you dare contradict me! Under Voldemort's rule, the Ministry performed shams of a trial – show trials. Hell, you were performing them in 1981 too! I was witness to a trial against a Muggleborn witch, who had supposedly 'stolen' a wand despite the well known fact that the wand chooses their own master. She was offered no defence, had no chance to defend herself as the prosecution was at her throat practically every second, and had no opportunity to wash and clothe herself properly. So yes, you are just like one of Voldemort's men, and you most unequivocally should be ashamed," he ended his tirade; sneering down at the slimy man, eyes blazing in righteous anger.

Draco watched numbly as Harry strode away from the stand, and into the midst of the audience where from his position the blonde could see him angrily murmuring to Hermione. Onyx hair wild, emerald depths desperate and fists clenched tightly. _'Delicious, what I wouldn't give to – oh Merlin, I so shouldn't be thinking about this still. He's been married for nearly 18 months...Liar, you know it's been exactly 17 months and 19 days, admit it to yourself – after all if you can't trust yourself with __that__ much, what can you trust yourself with? You've been counting the days ever since he married, ever since you died a little inside. Stop pretending to yourself, you are hopelessly in love with Harry flaming Potter!'_

Draco watched as his memory-self's breath began to shorten as the verdict came in, he remembered that back then all he could see was his Mother's face as he believed it would be the last time he saw her. His memory-self never saw the anxiousness spread across Harry's face, or the worried gaze settling on his dishevelled form – but Draco did._'Ten years working in the Department of Magical Creatures – such a shame they didn't realise that I actually like animals.' _

He watched as the relief and joy swept through Harry, making him look more lively _'gorgeous' _than Draco had ever seen him. He watched as the happy eyes took in the collapsed and weeping form of his memory self, and frowned in worry. He watched as the owner of those eyes, swiftly crouched beside his memory, and ensconced him in those warm, strong arms.

Draco felt the feeling of goosebumps intensify, until a pleasurable _tingle _was settling in his bones. He remembered those arms, and the soft reassurances whispered into his ears. That he would be okay, that he was safe, that he would never, ever go to Azkaban so long as he would live, that he deserved to be happy, to live a life, to gain a lover. The world was his and no-one could stop him form living his life. Draco watched intently as his memory-self clung to Harry's form, before visibly struggling to gain composure; he saw the caring smile directed at him from the most breathtaking teenager to live. And he saw how his mother finally escaped the thralls of the gaping audience to wrap her arms around his former self, and smile a watery smile at the onyx-haired teen, who in return smiled awkwardly at her, ruffled a hand through his hair and left.

Draco felt the blush redden his cheeks as he watched how he had pathetically held onto a man who was way out of his league, Merlin, he wasn't even in the park to begin with (despite what his Mother thought). He couldn't even reprimand himself for his previous self's actions, as they were that embarrassing; it was true that he never wanted to re-live his trial because of how he thought it would end, but he also vowed never to remember the shameless way he behaved, as it was merely too mortifying.

* * *

Trembling feet landed upon the plush carpet, of the modest apartment he owned amidst Muggle London, whilst the pensieve was innocently perching upon the low coffee table to his left, _'And that was only the first memory, she gave me three others, __and__ she listed their order; why is she doing this to me?'_ the blonde miserably thought to himself, knowing that the witch would somehow discover if he had not complied to her demands. _'She asked me to cover her shift yesterday for a free today, what was she wanting? I thought we had moved past the childish torture sessions.'_

Running a shaking hand through fine strands of silky blonde hair, Draco Malfoy's expression turned to one of determination. _'I __will__ do this, if only to appease my own curiosity,'_ the man thought, as he took a deep breath and plunged his face back into the silvery depths of the liquid below. Head spinning, stomach lurching, the blonde landed upon the unmistakable cobblestones of Diagon Alley.

The sun shined high overhead, _'almost midday then'_, whilst the bustling inhabitants of the wizarding street blazed from the alien heat they were receiving, after the blustery, freezing mornings of the weeks previous. It wasn't hard to spot where Hermione was, since most of the other peoples' gazes were locked onto her and the _'ravishable'_ form of Harry Potter.

Their arms were linked, heads bent close together whilst they whispered lowly, and even though the sight was common from the affectionate friendship they both shared, the blonde had to swallow his jealousy at seeing them together. He heard the gibberish being spouted from their mouths, and knew that one of them _'Hermione most likely.'_ had cast the necessary privacy precautions, but as he was watching the memory courtesy of said _'annoying'_ witch, he easily slipped alongside the two.

"-trying to get the two of us together Hermione! It's not going to happen, he just doesn't like me like that!" the blonde heard Harry insist, attempting to ignore the flaring hope inside his chest. _'Like doesn't necessarily mean attracted Draco, calm your brain!'_

"And if you believe that Harry, then you're the most dimwitted person I know for a fact that he does like you," the witch attempted to argue back, but was cut off by the irate wizard.

"Hermione, I love you like a sister, an _annoying, nagging, _older sister, but could you please just drop it?" Draco watched as she sighed in resignation, yet he also saw the determined gaze she sent his way when he wasn't looking. Harry seemed oblivious however, as he glanced around the Alley, and turned back to his friend. "Hermione, I'm just off to _Flourish and Blotts_ to see if the newest release of Healer Monthly is out, will you be okay what with the sprog and all." He pointedly looked at her stomach, and she smiled fondly at him.

"I'll be fine Harry, go on and read your guilty pleasure," she said, laughing at the shocked _'horrified'_ look on his face. "Honestly, I don't like to toot my own horn here, but smartest witch of my age, and you are an open book."

"Hey!" he shouted with incredulity, and she just smirked.

"I'm saying nothing, but Mr. November has a _very_ fine arse, actually he's quite similar to Drac-"

"Shut up!" he hissed at her, before stalking off in the other direction. Fighting the urge to follow after the _'adorable'_ sulking man, (as the innuendo which had been implied was almost too much to bare, and the blonde couldn't now not know what the Potter was actually buying), the Malfoy instead dogged his friend's footsteps.

And because he was following her, he could see how she was too busy smiling at her stomach to notice the all too familiar woman, until it was too late. "Oh, Ms. Malfoy! I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going at all, here, let me help you!" Hermione gushed, whilst hurriedly handing over a Twilfit and Tattings bag. "Are you okay?"

And Draco had to give credit to his Mother, who hadn't even seemed to misplace one single hair on her head in the whole debacle, and merely smiled at the flustered young witch before her. "I am fine thank you Mrs. Weasley, thank you for your assistance," Narcissa said, however the warmth of her tone, belied the coldness of the words. "Are you well also Mrs. Weasley? You seem quite unlike yourself."

"I'm pregnant!" she declared loudly, before slapping her hands over her mouth. "I wasn't meant to tell anyone yet," she quietly murmured, but beamed at the older woman, who was returning her smile. "but I'm just so happy about it! Pregnant, me."

"I remember when I first discovered I was pregnant with Draco, I wanted to tell everyone too, though Lucius was against the idea," she added as an after-thought, and Draco felt his heart constrict at his Mother's words. _'The amount of pain he put my Mother through,'_ "Severus was very supportive, of course, as was he also with Lily's pregnancy. He was a very – _thoughtful_ – man."

"Yes, Professor Snape was a great man," Hermione softly said, "however I cannot claim to have known him as well as either you or Draco, but I know that he was very accommodating towards Draco's inclinations," Hermione diplomatically stated, carefully broaching a subject that the wizard in question did _not _want to be breached – at all.

"And what exactly are you attempting to imply about my son?" the Malfoy woman frigidly asked, her eyes glacial cold as they slowly blinked.

"Just his infatuation towards my best-friend," she simply explained, before frowning shrewdly at the other woman. "and said best-friend's cowardly nature, by not admitting his amorous feelings towards said son six years ago, due to his idiotic notion of being rejected, and _hurting_ said son. As if Draco wouldn't want him, stupid boy," she softly said, before beaming at Narcissa. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Of course I do," the blonde woman loftily replied, before narrowing her eyes upon the witch. "I take it you have a plan?"

"_The _Plan, and yes I do," Hermione corrected, before glancing at the Muggle wrist-watch she adamantly refused to remove. " I'm sorry I must leave, I'm late for work, but I'll owl you the details later," she called in reply, before hurriedly running in the opposite direction.

* * *

Gasping for breath, Draco sank to the floor of his living-room. He could hardly believe what he had just witnessed, the things which hat been alluded to. '_They made no sense, and bore no credible basis, they are just the whims of a witch,'_ the blonde thought to himself, and with that thought firmly in mind, the Malfoy dived into Hermione's penultimate memory. It certainly wasn't what he was expecting.

The brown-haired witch, was, (to put it mildly), in the middle of a disaster zone. Tousled clothes were everywhere the eye could see; a pair of crumpled cream, pyjama-bottoms on the bed, a pair of grey socks hooked over the post on the iron headboard, an unmistakable red jumper flung haphazardly across the floor. _'Good Merlin, it's Weasley and Hermione's room, please, please, please tell me that Weasley has just gone to work and isn't naked in the bedroom,'_ Draco pleaded with himself, _'I think I may have to burn my eyes if that is the case.'_

"Malfoy," _'Wait? What?'_ Hermione quickly whispered, and the blonde wizard saw that she was talking to her mirror. _'Has she finally lost it? I mean when she was talking the Crups into not biting people, I thought she was insane, but-'_ "I haven't much time, since Harry and I are going to Diagon Alley in a couple of minutes. Just know that what I've shown you, and what I am going to show you are for your own benefit. Merlin knows that Harry won't do this himself, and I'm only hoping that your sneakiness and cunning are going to take centre-stage.

"What I'm about to show you, is a breach in Harry's trust, despite him not knowing that I saw the fiasco," she explained, and the Malfoy could feel his head spinning in the surreality of the situation. "Harry will never tell you this, unless he is pushed, so just think of me as a helping friend (which I am). So I'm sorry, but you're going have to initiate the contact if you ever want something out of your relationship, you've got to know that Harry – he's very insecure with himself. He doesn't think he should impose himself upon anyone, which is the reason why he married Ginny, well, I don't need to tell you anything else-" _'Yes, you bloody do!' _"since the next memory will explain itself. Just remember Draco, you are a Slytherin, no, forget that, you are a Malfoy, and what a Malfoy wants, a Mafloy gets."

And before Draco could even take fully comprehend what she had said, she hurried from the room, leaving the Malfoy once again on his apartment's floor. "Just what the fucking hell is wrong with her!" he screamed into his silent home. "None of this makes any sense, just why is she doing this?" _'For you, she said to you that she is doing it for you and Harry,'_ some hopeful part of himself attempted to reason, but he quickly shot it down. _'There is no Harry and I, and never shall be, and I'll prove it.'_

So for the final time that day, the blonde stuck his head back into the pensieve, holding his breath through the suffocating travel, before landing with disorientation upon hard, worn floorboards in a house with no straight edges – _anywhere_. His breeding urged him to sneer at the sight around him, as he soon realised the floor was the floor to a house, a home, however the Malfoy just couldn't criticise the building, as its mere appearance proved there were such things as sentimental value.

Certain parts of the wood were worn to a pale, scratched surface, as if someone had stood in that same spot on many occasions, whilst the kitchen surfaces (for that was where the blonde realised he was) were spotless of any dirt, yet held certain _loving_ finishes, like the tiny child-made mosaic tile sitting in place of a regular cream one.

_'Where is she?'_ the Malfoy thought to himself, quickly glancing around the empty kitchen for the meddling Muggleborn witch, who was Hermione Weasley. A flash of infamous wild, curled brown hair came from his left, and the blonde saw the woman _'friend'_ outside of the house, looking in through one of the worn, sparkling windows, teasing her bottom lip between her teeth. _'What is she worried about?'_ Draco thought, staring in the same direction as the memory-witch, and his breath escaped him.

Harry Potter, a haggard Harry Potter. His untameable onyx hair, appeared to have gained its own sentience as it was tangled everywhere, whilst his emerald eyes were dull and tired, surrounded by the backdrop of vicious-looking, purple bags. _'Just what happened to him?'_ The younger Potter, pulled out a chair and absently sank into it, before burying his head into his hands. Timidly approaching the other man, (even though the Malfoy knew that the Potter couldn't see him), he stretched out a pale hand towards Harry's shoulder, however the shrill tones of a woman _'banshee'_ stopped him at the last moment.

"Harry!" the voice of Ginerva Weasley rang into the kitchen, and Draco heard a small moan of annoyance coming from the Potter's throat. "What was that back there?" she testily demanded, pulling her magenta _'doxy-ridden'_ bathrobe tighter around herself. "Why didn't you want to do it? I haven't seen you in a year, and you don't even want to make up for lost time!" she screeched out, _'Harry and that, oh Merlin, don't think about it; well, it's not as if you didn't know they would – shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!'_

"Ginny," a weary voice pleaded, "can we not talk of this please?" the Potter raised his red-rimmed eye upon her blazing ones, and Draco knew that the witch _'bitch'_ wasn't going to back down.

"No! I will not leave it! We've never done anything except kissing, and you weren't even that enthusiastic about that either. Do you like someone else? Is that it? You don't want me?" she screamed out, and from the vantage Draco was standing, he saw the Potter mouth the word 'yes' before vocalising the opposite. Heart thudding loudly in his chest, the blonde saw the pained emeralds of the onyx-haired teenager, and suicidal hope flooded his chest. _'Don't think about it,'_

"Of course not Ginny, I'm just worried about the trials," Harry attempted to reason, but even to the Malfoy it sounded weak, and from the looks of the flushing Weasley girl, she knew it too.

"That's bullshit Harry! You're not worried about them, you know all the Death Eater scum are going to go to Hell!" she angrily retorted, "They will never see the light of day again, any of them! Greyback, Dolohov, Malfoy; especially Malfoy, the little bastard. He'll rot in Azkaban like the waste of skin he is, and then will kill himself just like his disgusting father, I only hope the Dementors get to him first!" the teenage girl passionately exclaimed, and the Malfoy thought his still-beating heart had been ripped out of his chest, and repeatedly stomped into the dirt.

_'Don't think of it,'_ he instructed to himself, gripping at his robes to where his pained heart was. _'He's not your father, not really, he never deserved the right to be called it, no, that right was reserved for Severus, and Severus only. Be glad that Lucius isn't related to your name any longer, his name has been purged from the tree, don't think of him, don't think of him, don't think-'_

"What," the memory teenager breathed out angrily, and Draco returned his focus to see Harry slowly rise from his seat to tower over the defiant ginger-haired girl. "did you just say, Ginerva? Did you just wish Draco Malfoy into that hell-hole?"

"Yes I did!" she affirmed, lifting her chin to stare into his eyes. "I wish the Dementors would torture him daily, and you should too! You're Harry Potter! The Saviour of the Wizarding World, you should _hate_ him, not try to _protect _him! Just let him_ die_!" she screamed at him, before a loud 'SLAP' echoed throughout the room.

_'He-He just hit her – to defend me_!_'_ Draco thought wildly to himself, not even feeling the satisfaction he would have so dearly relished in, when he saw the large, red hand-print forming upon the Weasley girl's cheek. "Don't you ever say those things ever again," the Potter warned her, his harsh breathing only adding to the solemnity of his words. "Draco Malfoy does not deserve to be in Azkaban, he does not! And I do not care who you are-"

"I am your fiancé!" she interrupted; tears prickling her eyes, as she gingerly stroked her injured cheek. "You can't do that to me! I am soon to be your wife, you should cherish me, care for me, love me!"

"Well I don't!" man vehemently screamed back at her, smiling viciously at her sharp intake of breath._ 'What, what, what?!' _ "I. Do. Not. Love. You. And I never will; you think that I don't know that you're only after my money and fame? I am not an idiot Ginerva; I only accepted your proposal for Molly's sake, because I knew she would love it if I officially became part of the family." _'He doesn't love her? Why are they married then? Why did he marry her? Just what-'_

"No, I don't believe you! You have to love me, have to! We are destined to be together!"

"No we're not!"

"Then why? Why do this to me?" she asked; tears streaking down her face, as she pleaded the Potter.

"Did you just ask me why?" he snarled back at her, "I want to know why did _you_ do this to _me_! Why you went around and told everybody that we were getting married when we weren't, why you told everyone that I loved you when I never told you such a thing, told the media that I was going to become an Auror and start a family with you, when I had _no_ intention of doing either one! Because of you, I have to do it, I have to marry you when I don't love you, and never will love you!" he bellowed, face flushing red with anger as he spat each venomous word into the girl's face.

_'Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin. He doesn't actually love her,'_ Draco desperately thought to himself, relief washing through his body as tears leaked from his eyes. _'It doesn't mean that he's not straight, he doesn't love her but he probably loves another _girl; SHUT UP!'

"Don't make this out to be my fault! I never made you say 'yes'!"

"You forced my hand! It would have been the same if you had your wand at my throat and 'Avada Kedavra' on your lips!"

"Stop being a coward, you were just too afraid to have what you really want. You're a coward, and I don't even know how a coward could even want to be an Auror," she began to murmur to herself.

"I've told you, I do _not _want to be an Auror; I already have an apprenticeship under Healer Zabini!"

"See! Just like I said, you're a coward! COWARD!" she crowed triumphantly, disgust evident upon her face as she sneered at the man before her.

"Shut up, you stupid little bint!" the onyx-haired man roared into her face, and the blonde saw from the erratic way he was moving, that anger was fuelling every pore of his body. "You will not control my life, I will become a Healer, and I will save Draco Malfoy from Azkaban!"

"Why are talking about him again!" she screamed at him, whilst tightly clenching her fists in anger. "You're always talking about him, always saying how he doesn't deserve to be in Azkaban, about how he is innocent, he was a _DEATH EATER_!" the girl flung her arms to the sides, as if in doing so she would emphasise her point. "Sometimes it seems as if he is the only thing you care about!"

"That is because he is!" and the man in question felt as if his breath had been stolen from him, and heart frozen, suspended by those five words issued from perfection itself's mouth. "He is innocent, and yet he is being criminalised and imprisoned, and he does not deserve it! He may not be the nicest of people to some, but I'm in lov – he just doesn't deserve _this_!" _'W-What? What was he going to say? No-no it can't be, it can't be,'_

"What were you going to say! Were you going to say 'love'? Are you gay or something!" the red-haired girl fumed to the silent man before her, who merely sighed wearily to himself, and lifted his wand to her forehead.

"I won't say I am sorry for this Ginny," he began, gripping the wood tighter within his hands. "_Obliviate!_" he called out, nodding with satisfaction as her eyes glazed over. "Ginny?" he called softly, and blue eyes focused upon his in confusion. "You blanked out for a moment there, you said you were going to change into some clothes, then go to Diagon," the Potter said, sounding _'deceivingly' _helpful, as he indicated her bathrobe-clad form.

"Oh yes, I remember now, thanks Harry!" she exclaimed, before kissing the man on the cheek and flouncing from the room. _'Just what the fucking Merlin! Harry Potter obliviated the Weaslette! To hide his feelings...for me! Just what the fuck!'_

* * *

**A/N:** I'll update WDD chapter 12 soon, I promise :)


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